


Assorted Thiefshipping Oneshots

by girahimu_sama



Series: Post-Canon Thiefshipping Oneshots [12]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Citronshipping(post canon), M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girahimu_sama/pseuds/girahimu_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of oneshots I don't feel like posting as standalone works, all centered in my post canon universe. First one features Bakura and Ryou having a little talk. Rating might change. Feel free to suggest prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I probably should have done this sooner but oh well. Anyways, I'm getting tired of thinking up titles and descriptions for the oneshots I'm writing so I'd rather just toss them into here. Longer oneshots with more substance will still be posted as standalone stuff. The stuff in here is more... casual I guess? Like I said, I'm open to prompts - angsty, silly, w/e

Bakura chuckled at his laptop, clicking the printscreen button and saving a snapshot of the glorious sight before him. The flight hadn't been kind to Malik, it seemed. It was only around 6pm in Egypt, where he was staying, but far later than that in Japan, and Malik usually went to bed early (which, in Bakura's terms, was any time before midnight.)

 

Malik was usually so composed and preened, but the window of the video call displayed the opposite of that. He'd fallen asleep with his cheek pressed into a pillow, hair a mess, kohl slightly smudged, and his mouth ajar. His arm was still outstretched towards the keyboard, having dozed off in the middle of sending Bakura something, the chatbox still displaying that he was writing a message. Bakura called his name a few times but he didn't stir.

 

“You idiot,” the thief snorted. As dumb as Malik looked, he found it kind of endearing. Just then, he heard Ryou padding down the hallway outside the room. A moment later, his mane of white hair appeared in the doorway.

 

“Bakura, you coming?”

 

“Yeah, give me a moment,” Bakura snapped back, turning his attention back to the sleeping image of Malik.

 

Ryou laughed. “Quit Skyping with your boyfriend and get your ass to the living room.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Ryou, he's not my–” Bakura cut himself off with a roll of his eyes; there was no point in arguing about this. Ryou had already disappeared back down the hall. Smirking again, he saved a copy of the screenshot he'd taken, and then sent it back to Malik followed by a caption of 'new BG right here.'

 

That done, he stared at the window again for a few more long moments. A smile appeared on his face without his permission – and not just because of the idea of Malik waking up to potential blackmail material.

 

“Goodnight, Malik,” he said quietly. An instant later, he forced the smile off of his face and replaced it with a scowl. It still astounded him how easily Malik brought out such sincerity in him. No, he wasn't going to admit he missed the other male already, even though he was only visiting his siblings and would be back within the week. No, he wasn't going to admit that he wished Malik were laying beside him right now and not miles away from him in an unfamiliar bed. And hell no, he was not going to admit he wanted to brush the stray strands of golden hair out of Malik's face and kiss at his broad shoulders until he joined him in sleep.

 

That was just stupid.

 

Mouse lingering over the button for a few seconds, he ended the call and shut down his computer, setting it aside and getting up off the bed.

 

Ryou was waiting in the living room, and Bakura's mood instantly shifted when he saw him. He couldn't explain what it was, but around his former host an awkwardness remained, like the stench of rot that could never quite be cleared from a grave. It was so different from Malik; he was never awkward around Malik.

 

He only bothered to interact with a few people in his new life. Ryou was one of them, and something made him uneasy about looking at the body he'd once inhabited. Could it have been their history? Maybe, but Bakura thought himself too callous to care about what had happened, and Ryou couldn't seem to hold a grudge even if it was glued to his hands.

 

What the hell was it then?

 

Ryou looked up from where he sat on the floor, various games surrounding him. They all belonged to Ryou, but he insisted Bakura help him finish all of them. Nowadays, they had game nights like this often. “So, what do you want to start with?”

 

Bakura pointed to a random game in the pile. “That one.”

 

“Biohazard 5?”

 

Bakura grunted indifferently. Ryou popped it into the system and tossed him a controller. Half an hour later and they were well into the game. It was two player splitscreen co-op and Bakura had insisted they play on hard mode. They soon found themselves suffering for it, mostly because Bakura was far too generous with his ammo and insisted on going off alone while Ryou tried to cover him.

 

“Fuck! This is so annoying!” Bakura growled as his character was hit again and put into a dying state. He was incapacitated, uselessly dragging himself around while the enemies closed in.

 

“Hang on, I've got you,” Ryou tried to reach him so he could resuscitate him (you had to rely on your partner to revive you – the stupidest feature in the game, in Bakura's opinion) but Bakura's character dropped to the ground and the Game Over screen flashed. Ryou sighed, a rueful smile on his face. “Maybe next time don't try and take on the Executioner by yourself?”

 

Bakura crossed his arms. “I had it, there were just too many other zombies getting in my way.”

 

“Want to try again?”

 

“No, this game is stupid.” Bakura shoved his controller away from him, not looking at Ryou. Honestly, he didn't care about the game; it was his thoughts from before that were coming back to haunt him. The entire time they'd been playing, all he could think about was how wrong it felt, how casual it was when it had no right to be.

 

Ryou, picking up on his mood, gave him a concerned look. “Bakura, is something wrong?”

 

The thief ground his teeth, irritation pricking at his nerves like needles. “No, _landlord_ , what would make you think that?”

 

Ryou frowned. “You know I don't like when you call me that.”

 

His tone sounded scolding, like it was _oh so casual_. Oh, he _didn't like_ when he called him that, like it was nothing but a shitty nickname and not a title used in the years the former spirit had destroyed his body and fucked up his life. No, it was nothing. Nothing at all.

 

Bakura couldn't fathom why he was suddenly so angry, and why it was more directed at himself than Ryou. Maybe it was because his head was clearer than ever nowadays and he actually had room to think thoughts that weren't filled with darkness. His fists clenched – he couldn't help it, he was on the verge of exploding with something that had been building for months.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bakura jumped to his feet, jerking away as though Ryou had burned him. “I don't understand why you insist on babysitting me! It's like you don't remember what I did to you.”

 

Ryou blinked at him, mouth slightly open with surprise, and then he pursed his lips. He didn't say anything, however, merely let the outburst come unhindered. Somehow his calmness only pissed the thief off more.

 

“I don't get it. Are we hanging out because we're both friends with Malik? Do you feel like you need to take responsibility for me? What _is_ it?” Bakura clutched at his own hair, tugging at the short strands before letting his hands drop back to his sides. “I just don't fucking understand you.”

 

“You never really took the time to, too focused on other things.” Ryou sighed, glancing away. “Though I do feel like I'm responsible for you, in a way.”

 

“Well you're not! I'm not a goddamn charity case.” Bakura sounded pained now, like something desperate was crawling up his throat. His tone betrayed a far deeper loathing, one that wasn't aimed at Ryou at all. “Why don't you hate me?”

 

Ryou stared at him – hard – for several silent moments that felt much longer than they actually were. Bakura shrunk under his gaze even though he was the one on his feet, posture clenched in a way that was almost animal, dangerous and defensive. Ryou was looking right through him, expression steadfast, unfazed, unmoved. It was that kind of strength that made Bakura remember what he'd dealt with in the past, that Ryou wasn't just some puppet to be toyed with. His eyes drifted to the other's pale hand, where the scar rested, and then flew back up again.

 

“It would be a lie if I said I wasn't wary of you at first.” Ryou admitted. “But you've changed. Malik can see it, I can see it. You're an idiot if you yourself don't see it. You can pretend all you want that you're still the same manipulative, immortal spirit with no drive outside of revenge, but you're human now. Humans don't do well in isolation.”

 

Bakura drew back a step, keeping his eyes trained on Ryou suspiciously.

 

“Who says I pretend I'm anything?” He scowled, realizing how stupid that sounded, and shook his head. “It still doesn't make sense for you to be concerned for me.”

 

“Because everyone deserves a second chance. That includes you.” Ryou stood up, daring him to challenge the fact. “You can call me soft for it, but I'd prefer to see you make something of yourself rather than not know where you went or what became of you.” His expression softened, while Bakura's only grew more distressed. “Especially after everything, after learning what you went through, just... just don't screw yourself up this time.”

 

Bakura's mouth opened and closed several times, and then he threw his hands up, finally reaching the point where he couldn't find the words to press the matter. He dragged his hands down his face, turning and flopping down on the couch.

 

“Gods, you're like Yugi. Too damn forgiving for your own good.”

 

Ryou did the same, aiming a serene smile in Bakura's direction.

 

“I know. I hope it irritates you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has a hard time adjusting to humanity :y

The apartment was quiet when he returned, which Malik found odd but not enough to grow worried. He'd gotten home later than he would have liked, two suitcases dragging behind him. He propped them up in the entry hallway and called out his partner's name. When nothing but silence and darkness greeted him, he flicked on the living room light, trying to ignore the dread prickling in his stomach that the lack of light brought.

 

He wasn't all that concerned for Bakura's whereabouts – he could have been at Ryou's place for all he knew – but when he found the other laying on the couch, noticeable relief filled him. The thief was passed out, likely from another round of all-night gaming. Malik nudged his side, shifting him over so he could sit on the couch too. Bakura groaned and began to stir. Malik shook his head at his lethargy; it was almost eight for Ra's sake.

 

“Did you just wake up?”

 

Bakura yawned and stretched, letting out a high pitched noise. He smacked his lips a few times, eyes blearily opening to gaze up at the other male. His voice sounded painfully hoarse. “Yeah.”

 

Malik frowned a bit. Usually Bakura was more enthusiastic about seeing him after a long period of absense, but here it was just like any other day. He supposed it could be chalked up to the fact that Bakura still looked mostly asleep. “You know, normal people go to bed at night and are active during the day.”

 

“Not in the desert. You sleep during the day when it's too hot to do anything, and you move at night when it's cool.” The thief mumbled and nestled further against the couch cushions, eyes drooping closed once again. Then they opened as Bakura fixed Malik with a look of recognition, blinking several times as he finally sat up. “Oh.”

 

Malik grinned at him. “Miss me?”

 

Bakura rubbed at his eyes. “I thought I was dreaming.”

 

“Flattering.”

 

Bakura shook his head, looking strangely lost and delirious.

 

“No, I had another dream you came home, but it wasn't real and when I woke up there was just the empty apartment.”

 

Something about the other male's appearance and behaviour struck an off chord with Malik. Usually he was a bit more lively than this, even for a 3000 year old dead and then-recently-brought-back spirit.

 

“Bakura, are you... okay?”

 

“What?”

 

“I just... you seem... kind of out of it.” Malik looked at the mess of plates and junk on the coffee table and wrinkled his nose. He didn't doubt that the rest of the apartment was in a similar state, though it would be a lie to say it wasn't expected after leaving the other man alone for over a week. “Would it kill you to clean up a bit after yourself?”

 

“I'll get to it later.” Bakura waved him off, getting to his feet and swaying a little.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Bathroom.” Bakura grumbled back.

 

He disappeared around the corner of the hallway. Two seconds later, Malik heard a dull thump echo though the air and he frowned.

 

“Bakura?”

 

When there was no answer he jumped to his feet, rounding the corner and finding the other male sprawled out on the floor, face down. “Bakura!”

 

Malik rushed to his side, panic rising in his gut. He had a bad feeling, something he'd been taking notice of over the course of many months of shared living space, and this only comfirmed it. Turning him over, Malik was relieved to find him breathing, albeit shallowly. He hooked an arm under the thief's knees and raised them slightly, watching Bakura's face intently. Fifteen seconds, thirty seconds, forty five seconds later Bakura's eyelids fluttered.

 

“Wake up, you bastard!” Malik snarled.

 

Bakura groaned, turning his face away from the brightness of the hallway light above them. “Malik... shut up...”

 

“No!” Malik shot back, livid with worry. “Fucking hell, Bakura, this is ridiculous! You're not taking care of yourself!”

 

Bakura flinched, either from the light or from Malik's loud voice, and rubbed at his face. Malik got the impression he was trying to hide, and somehow it only made his temper flare up even more.

 

“Do I have to slap it into you? You're not immortal spirit anymore, you can't just neglect your basic needs – like fucking eating!” He yelled, not caring for the way Bakura seemed to curl in on himself. They were almost a year into living together and Bakura's habits didn't seem to be getting better – in fact they only seemed to be getting worse. It was like he couldn't readjust to having his own physical, _mortal,_ body. “And eating properly.”

 

Bakura didn't meet his fiery glare, his eyes covered by his hand. He took a deep breath, mumbling in a voice that was barely audible. “I ate... yesterday. I think.”

 

Malik gave an exasperated shake of his head. “One of those shitty microwave meals I'm guessing? I'm sure that did a lot of good for you.”

 

“Fuck, my head is pounding...” Bakura hissed, attempting to sit up, “and you're not helping.”

 

Malik heaved a sigh that sounded closer to a growl, sliding his other arm under Bakura's shoulders and shifting him over to the wall. He abruptly stood up, shooting a warning look at the other to remain where he was before blazing off to the kitchen. Malik opened the fridge door with more force than necessary, a mantra of _stupid, stupid, stupid_ running through his head, the sting of frustration prickling behind his eyes. He grabbed the juice and then took a cup from the cupboards, quickly pouring a glass and then heading back to where Bakura sat in the hallway. The state of disarray that the kitchen was in could wait; he had plenty else to verbally blast his partner for at the present time.

 

Bakura grimaced when Malik practically thrust the glass up against his mouth, some of the juice spilling over the lip and soaking into his shirt.

 

“Drink it!” Malik snarled, fully intending to force feed him if he wasn't going to be cooperative. Bakura held his gaze for a few seconds, expression unreadable, before he reluctantly reached up and took the glass into his hands, sipping from it.

 

Feeling his anger beginning to ebb, Malik sighed and turned away to sit against the wall beside him.

 

“Maybe your head wouldn't be pounding if you slept properly. And you're starting to look like a goddamn skeleton. Are you trying to starve yourself?”

 

Bakura hid in the juice for a while, draining the glass about halfway before he pulled back to quietly reply. “... No.”

 

“Then why do you insist on eating like shit?”

 

“I... didn't know it would worry you so much.” Bakura muttered, eyebrows furrowing as he finished off the juice. His words were almost lost against the lip of the glass. “No one's ever worried.” 

 

Bakura stared down at the empty glass for a long while and Malik stared at him, expression softening, and then becoming serious once more. Like hell Bakura was getting off that easily.

 

“You didn't fucking win back your body just so you could kill yourself again.”

 

“We're all going to die in the end anyway, Malik.” The thief remarked tiredly. Malik grit his teeth at the edging sarcasm in his words.

 

"That's no excuse." Bakura still wasn't looking at him, so Malik reached out and seized his jaw, forcing eye contact between them. “Is this really what you want, to starve yourself to death? To push your body to the brink of collapse?”

 

Bakura scowled and shoved his hand away, slapping the empty glass to the floor in annoyance.

 

“Don't act like I don't know what starvation feels like. Fuck if I want that. Gods just...” his body seized up in apparent frustration, and then abruptly loosened, “fine, if it matters so much to you, I'll try and be healthier.”

 

Hearing his words, Malik felt better, but the concerned look didn't leave his face.

 

“Of course it matters to me, you fucking prick.” He snorted. “Your flippant attitude about these things really pisses me off sometimes.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Also?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Take a goddamn shower. You look like something someone scraped off of the freeway, and you don't smell much better either.” Malik grinned at him.

 

Bakura's mouth twisted up in indignation before a smirk drew across his features.

 

“I think you should join me...” He said, tone strategic and sly. “I mean, you insist on nagging me all the time so you know, you can help me wash since I clearly can't take care of myself.”

 

Malik laughed. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me to make up for two weeks of no fucking?”

 

“Noooo, what makes you say that?”

 

Bakura ducked his head and snarled in irritation when Malik gave his hair an affectionate ruffle.

 

“Later, after you've eaten properly.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, whenever I try to write short things they turn out much longer than intended... I'm just incapable of writing drabbles ahah. Anyways, just some cute shit after Malik wakes up from a nightmare.

Bakura awoke to hands frantically grabbing at him and he immediately panicked, caught in some reality far away made of rolling sands and shady figures creeping through alleys. He went for his knife only to find blankets instead. A warm body was atop him, but strangely his assailant lacked the intent of murder.

 

Consciousness trickled back slowly, like the white noise of rain tapping against the window. He was dimly aware of the distant rumble of thunder, but the sounds of distress emitting from the person trying to bury into his chest stole his attention entirely.

 

Bakura's eyes snapped open as understanding finally hit him. He tried to shift against the headboard to sit up, but his partner wouldn't let up, clutching for him as though the shadows of the room would reach out and rip him away at any moment.

 

“Malik?”

 

A pitiful sob answered him. Bakura sighed, hands sliding up to rub soothing circles into Malik's lower back, wondering just what night terror had gotten to him now. Malik shuddered against him, fingers clawing into the thin material of his shirt.

 

“Don't leave, don't leave...” Malik choked out, words muffled by Bakura's chest. Bakura carded a hand through his hair placatingly.

 

“Shh... shh... it was only a nightmare.” There was an edge of bitterness in his tone. Yes, only a nightmare, only a reminder of ghosts they would never get rid of. It wasn't the first time their demons had been dragged – writhing, screaming – back into the open air, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

 

He blinked as his eyes easily adjusted to the dark... only to realize that it was _dark_. Near pitch black even. He cursed himself for neglecting to notice sooner. Still feeling groggy, he reached over to flick on the bedside lamp, but was unsurprised to find it didn't work.

 

“Ah, dammit. Power's out. It's storming pretty hard, so...” He hesitantly attempted to disentangle himself from Malik. “I'll go get some candles or something.”

 

Malik seemed to seize up, curling into him further, voice edging higher with alarm. “No, don't leave.”

 

“I'm not going far.” Bakura realized he didn't have much of a choice. It didn't make much difference to Bakura; the darkness was like a second skin to him, but he knew Malik hated it. He was surprised for Malik's sake, that he would rather cling to the thief and remain in the darkness than let Bakura go.

 

Something was wrong.

 

“Malik... was it your other half again?”

 

Malik tensed up for a moment, and then shook his head, face still buried in the other's shirt. He tried to speak again, but his words were swallowed by the fabric. Bakura realized he was crying, if the wetness seeping onto the front of his chest was any indication. Malik sniffled a few times before raising his head, and Bakura could only make out the shape of his hair as it fell over his eyes.

 

“You... you were...” Malik paused. “Gone. You vanished. It was like you never returned at all. Like you never existed.”

 

Bakura expected the usual – the initiation, Malik's darker half returning – but this came as more of a surprise. He wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps he didn't hold himself to a high enough regard, at least in the way that would have other people _missing_ his presence. It wasn't something he'd even really considered. Malik had living siblings that would no doubt be devastated were he ever to vanish without a trace. Perhaps they would be saddened for Bakura too if the same happened to him _now_ , but it didn't feel the same. Maybe Ryou would- or had missed him in some fucked up way but other than that...

 

Bakura snapped back to reality, reaching up to brush his thumb over Malik's cheek.

 

“I'm here now.” He gave a snort and a small laugh. “Do you honestly think you could ever be rid of a cockroach like me?”

 

The humor didn't seem to be in the right place however. Malik appeared to have not have heard him, shallow breaths pulling themselves from his lungs. Bakura frowned and wrapped his arms around Malik's shoulders, repositioning himself so he could sit against the headboard with Malik leaning against him.

 

“No one even remembered you but me. I was so alone, I can't even describe it...” Bakura felt rather than saw the way Malik's eyes seemed to glaze over as his tone flatlined, defeated. The weight of the stress in his words seemed to drag him down, making him feel heavier than he actually was, though Malik's voice was quiet, barely audible. “I don't want to feel like that again.”

 

“Malik, I'm here.” Bakura repeated. “I'm not leaving.”

 

He didn't know if it was true; fate always did seem to find a way of screwing him up but he didn't want to see Malik more upset than he already was. Unfortunately, words seemed to have little effect at the moment. Malik still wept, and all Bakura could do was comfort him with gentle strokes of his back as the pitter patter of rain against the window picked up. _I'm still here. I'm still here._

 

He wasn't sure what compelled him to sing, but reassurance didn't appear to be doing much so he had to change tactics. The hum started low in his chest, slowly rising to his throat, raspy and off tune at first but he cleared his throat and kept going. Improvising was his specialty; he didn't know what he was humming, the tune seemingly having a mind of its own.

 

Eventually it became something recognizeable, something from a video game that had wormed its way inside his head. Malik's breathing, slowly but surely, alleviated, the sobs wracking his body quieting. Bakura continued petting his hair as they lay there in the dark while the storm raged on beyond.

 

The room lit up with a bright flash as a bolt of lightning cut clean across the sky. Far too soon, a loud rumble of thunder rolled overhead, drowning out Bakura's humming. Both of them looked over at the window in surprise, stunned into silence for a moment, and then Bakura chuckled.

 

“I take it the gods didn't like my singing.”

 

“Fuck the gods.” Malik scowled, voice sounding stronger already. It made Bakura's heart feel lighter.

 

“I'd rather not,” Bakura grunted, hearing Malik snicker. Another flash of lightning painted the room a stark white, and then the crack of thunder sounded not long after. “Damn, that's close.”

 

The flash only seemed to highlight the oppressive darkness surrounding them. Bakura held Malik closer to him when he felt the former tomb keeper stiffen. “About those candles...”

 

“There's a flashlight in the closet,” Malik mumbled, sliding off of Bakura and grabbing his hand at the same time. Bakura nodded, immediately feeling stupid about it since Malik likely couldn't see it, and climbed off the bed. Malik didn't release his hand as they felt their way through the hall, towards the utility closet.

 

Bakura grappled blindly for what felt like a flashlight, clicking it on. Malik breathed a sigh of relief at the light, but stuck noticeably closer to Bakura's side when the beam caused the shadows to dance. Bakura knew better than to taunt him for it, grimacing as he recalled the silent treatment Malik had graced him with for over a week before.

 

“This would have come in handy back when I was robbing tombs,” Bakura smirked dryly as they made their way back towards the bedroom. “Of course, back then I had my _ka_ and...”

 

He stopped, feeling compelled to smack himself in the forehead. “I'm an idiot.”

 

Malik threw him a confused look, and then snorted. “I know, but why?”

 

Bakura would have flipped him off if he had a free hand. Instead he pulled Malik back over to the bed and set the flashlight down on the bedside table with the beam pointed up at the ceiling, enveloping the room in a dim glow. They both climbed back under the covers in a similar position to what they had before.

 

“I forgot about my ka beast.” Bakura said with a frown. “I haven't tried summoning him yet... I'm not sure if I still can.”

 

Malik looked up at him, blinking. “Your ka beast?”

 

“I brought him back with me from the shadows.” Bakura shrugged. “I haven't summoned him in millennia. You kind of need to be living to summon your ka, so while I was in the Ring he was sealed off completely.” He supposed he'd almost gotten used to not having that kind of power; even now he sometimes forgot he was a living person. “But now... I can use heka again so...”

 

The air surrounding them began to shimmer as Bakura let his eyes slide shut. A bright flash filled the room, similar to the lightning outside. Something coiled in the air, encircling them in a thick translucent blanket of white. The creature that materialized was more the impression of his ka beast than the real thing, but Bakura could chalk that up to several factors. Mostly that he was tired and he hadn't summoned his ka in a very long time.

 

The ka was like a ghost wrapped around them, its see-through body running through furniture and walls as it stretched out into the hallway. It's pearl white scales seemed to give off a soft glow, illuminating the room and rendering the flashlight useless. Bakura opened his eyes and reached over to click it off.

 

Malik was utterly transfixed with the creature, reaching out to brush his hand along its body, but his fingers only passed through it. Bakura wanted to laugh at the wonderstruck expression on his face, but instead a warmth only hummed in his chest.

 

“That's... amazing.”

 

“He's faint... it's hard to sustain him,” Bakura said with a sigh. “Magic doesn't work in this world as well as it used to.”

 

“Even so,” Malik adjusted his position, making himself more comfortable against the other. “I've studied about ka beasts before, but seeing one up close like this is different.”

 

“Hmph, you should have seen him in his full glory.”

 

Malik leaned up and pressed their lips together for a long moment before settling back down against his chest.

 

“Thank you, Bakura.”

 

Bakura merely grunted and wrapped his arms around him again, but his lips twitched up at the corners. If Malik was content and at ease again, that was all that mattered.

 

They lay there together, listening to the sounds of the storm filter into their bubble of silence and peace. The thief's hands continued to stroke along Malik's backside, carrying with them a wordless promise as he too began to lull.

 

_Go to sleep. I'll be here until you drift off, and I'll be here when you awaken._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: totally forgot to say the song I hc Bakura humming is Sleeping Beauty from Resident Evil: The Darkside Chronicles!


End file.
